Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.

Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.

Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.

Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.

Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.

Where are my glasses in all this flurry?

Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.

Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.

Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.

Do I make you hard as fire?

Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.

Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.

Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?

Dear, let me mind *******
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and

Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.

Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.

Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.

Seeing your face

                  is like diving straight

                                              into a bowl

                                                       of Lucky Charms cereal

                                                         ­                    that's only the marshmallows.

I am something small
Never seen, always there
A reflection of another time
Wanting to feel, hear me
For I am a complication
I am someone but no one
One lost amongst the crowd
Just a drop in the ocean

The abstract acrobat

How you going to catch me with those tiny arms,
tiny dancer,
i don’t mean you no harm.

Those words you said went over my head,
and who needs a safety net when your safe in my arms.

Swing with me bambino,
i’m a monkey at best,
an ape at my worst,
I’m not sure what you expect.

Pirouette on those tiptoes that keep your feet on the ground,
It’s futile to get high if we never come down.

You heard me before,
purgatory flaws,
emerging to the sound of applause,

Those circus circumstances,
freak show romances,
We take chances beneath those bright lights.
Each and every night,
we take chances beneath those bright lights,

To the delight of the crowds.

The morning smelt like one of those lost summers,
those bright mornings I remember as a child
before I understood beauty.
It tasted like the cool milk I’d sipped on the cusp of a promising day,
when the stern rebukes of my father could not dim
the power of the blue sky to lift my spirits.
Sadness barely grazed my knees as I walked on the dewy grass
for everything was a masterpiece I'd never examined properly.
The air was warm and golden,
and I was the knight or the lost hero and the afternoon was
set to be filled with imagination and friendships
that I clasped so dear.
But we were sitting on the wall of the Garden of Eden,
looking in and drinking in its beauty, but knowing,
behind us that a dark fiend lurked,
yet never minding to turn around to look properly.
It was when who we were was not quite tangible,
when the light softened the whirling confusion of growing and forming
and we could smile and laugh
and think never mind tomorrow, it's today.
Yes, for a moment, the morning smelt like a lost summer,
so quickly fleeting.